


Of All The Synthale Joints...

by TheFoolsYouSee



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, Young Worf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28025886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFoolsYouSee/pseuds/TheFoolsYouSee
Summary: In the early days of his relationship with Jadzia, Worf struggles to let go of his normal stoicism. And it doesn't get any easier when an old friend from the Enterprise shows up on DS9.
Relationships: Jadzia Dax/Worf
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	Of All The Synthale Joints...

Helena Rozhenko leant against the wall and let out a heavy sigh; although the discussion with the inquest officer had been relatively calm, it had still been draining. News of Mikel’s death had come from the hospital early that morning, and both Helena and Sergey knew that it would be the last straw for the planet’s residents. Their adopted son already had a reputation for his violent behaviour and for doing whatever he wished, and even though this latest incident had been an accident, it was his uncontrolled aggression that had caused the tragedy. Before the communities across Gault began to demand it, the Rozhenko family would have to return to Earth.

The dark-haired human wiped her eyes and began to climb the stairs. As she did, the uncertainty of what she would find inside the bedroom she was heading towards made a nervousness spark in her belly. When her husband had first brought home the orphaned child that he’d found on Khitomer buried under rubble, Helena had been overjoyed that their son would now have a brother. But the newcomer had become harder and harder to manage as he grew older, especially as he learned more about his own culture, and he was now a size where the inherent violence of his species was able to come out in full force. Helena’s heart began to break as she faced the possibility that if this was the path he was headed on, then it might be time to admit that they were not fit to raise him anymore. Bracing herself, she knocked on the bedroom door and walked in.

Worf was sat on his bed. The teenager was tall compared to a human of his age but was still gangly without the thick, broad mass of an adult Klingon. He was still dressed in his soccer uniform from the day before and was staring down at the floor. But when he raised his head at her entrance, Helena was taken aback to see fear in his eyes. And it wasn’t directed at her.

‘ _I did not mean to…’_ Worf said in a high, shuddering breath. ‘ _I-I… I did not mean to…_ ’

If Klingons had tear ducts, he would have been crying. Helena resisted her own urge to fling her arms around her son and weep loudly for him, and instead walked over steadily and sat on the bed, putting one arm around his shoulders. Rather than pulling away from her touch as he usually would, Worf leant his large, ridged head against his mother, allowing her to gently stroke his hair.

‘I know,’ Helena said, making the decision there and then that whatever it took, she would help this troubled boy find a way to contain the fire inside him, and stop it from burning him away. ‘I know you didn’t.’

* * *

Quark’s was not exactly _busier_ in the later hours, as the constant flow of ships arriving at DS9 ensured a steady stream of customers at the station’s main entertainment establishment. But the longer the evening went on, the rowdier the customers at the bar and Dabo tables became, and the raucous noise was making Worf more and more agitated.

The Klingon tapped a finger on the table he was seated at. The Ferengi’s bar was not his favourite place on the station, and he had mostly managed to avoid it even when socialising with his new crewmates. But he had been dragged here by a woman he was finding increasingly hard to say no to, and as she returned with their drinks he felt the smallest of involuntary smiles break through his stoic exterior. Then the warmth in his heart was replaced by a shot of surprise when, after placing the two cups down on the table, his companion ignored the other chair opposite him and seated herself in the Klingon’s lap.

‘Jadzia!’ Worf protested, glancing around at the people around them.

‘Oh, stand down Red Alert, Worf,’ the Trill woman grinned. ‘You’re acting like this our first date, and we’re _well_ past that.’ She rested both her hands behind his neck and shifted slightly, getting herself comfortable.

Worf pursed his lips. It had barely been a week since their first tussle-turned-lovemaking session in the holosuite, and they had spent each night since in one of the other’s quarters. Jadzia had even managed to tempt Worf down an empty maintenance conduit in the middle of a duty shift, which was a testament to just how infatuated the Klingon had become with her. But the Trill’s suggestion of taking things ‘one day at a time’ had left Worf in an uncertain position – a position he felt unable to justify should anyone approach them.

‘We should not put on such a display while still in uniform,’ he said.

‘Well if you want to get undressed right here, I won’t stop you,’ Jadzia smirked.

Worf gave her a fond sigh. ‘You are _deliberately_ trying to make me uncomfortable,’ he accused.

‘Only because you look so cute when you’re flustered,’ Jadzia retorted, tapping a finger against his ridged nose.

Worf found himself smiling again at her playful touch, but then his eyes darted to the side as Quark bustled passed them. The Ferengi seemed too occupied with his barwork to pay them any mind, and Worf relaxed again.

‘Klingons are not usually so… _publically_ intimate,’ he said furtively.

Jadzia frowned. ‘You know, you say some odd things about Klingons sometimes. I bet you make half of them up just to get out of things you don’t want to do.’

Worf bristled. ‘Are you saying I _lie_ about my heritage?’

‘No, I'm joking, of course,’ Jadzia replied, putting an honest hand on her heart. ‘But the kind of Klingons you describe don’t really match up to the other ones I’ve met.’ A smile suddenly played across her face. ‘The Chief told me you grew up with humans, right?’

‘Yes,’ Worf confirmed. ‘But even before I visited my cousins on Qo'noS, I studied Klingon culture extensively.’

‘Okay, dry Federation xenoanthropology files, it’s starting to make sense,’ Jadzia nodded. ‘There’s an old Earth term I’ve heard of for someone who studies a culture from afar and tries to emulate them. You, Mister Worf, are a _weeaboo_.’

Worf wasn’t familiar with the term, and the tone with which the woman in his lap had said it made him glad of the fact. But then Jadzia leant forward and started planting slow kisses down the side of his face, and he began to warm to her again. He even started to forget about the other bar patrons surrounding them, and rested a hand on the Trill’s leg.

‘…Worf?’

The Klingon’s eyes refocused and landed on the figure who had spoken. Then he felt a surge of shock as he recognised Deanna Troi stood in front of their table.

‘Counsellor!’ Worf cried, leaping to his feet and sending Jadzia tumbling to the floor.

A few people around them glanced over at the commotion, and the Klingon’s eyes darted from their curious faces, to Deanna’s surprised one, to the woman on the floor.

‘Jad- Comman-’ Worf stumbled over his words as he tried to find a form of address that would be amenable to everyone involved. He was half stooping to help the Trill up off the floor, feeling oddly paralysed by the sudden influx of attention on him from so many quarters. ‘I am sorry,’ he managed. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘No, I’m fine.’ Jadzia reached up and took his hand, pulling herself to her feet. She brushed her blue-shouldered uniform down and glanced over at the newcomer wearing the blue-torsoed one. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, giving Deanna a wink. ‘It’s not the worst bruise he’s given me.’

Worf was mortified, a feeling that only worsened when he spotted the Counsellor’s expression – she looked absolutely delighted _._

‘Well Worf,’ the half-Betazoid began with a sly smile, ‘I was going to ask how well you’ve assimilated into the station, but I think I can see for myself.’

Worf sighed, and realised that Jadzia was waiting pointedly. ‘Lieutenant-Commander Jadzia Dax,’ he introduced, a little shamefacedly, ‘this is Counsellor Deanna Troi from the _Enterprise_.’

‘Lovely to meet you,’ Jadzia reached out a hand. ‘Worf speaks very highly of you.’

‘I’m glad,’ Deanna smiled, shaking the proffered hand.

‘I was not aware you were coming to the station,’ Worf said, trying to dampen the tone of accusation from his voice.

‘It’s a last-minute layover,’ Deanna replied. ‘I’m taking a temporary post on the _Lutrinae_ , it’s due to arrive in a few hours.’

‘Well, please join us!’ Jadzia offered, pulling another chair over towards their table. Worf was glad to see the Trill take one for herself this time as the three of them seated themselves.

‘Unfortunately I believe Chief O’Brien is asleep,’ the Klingon said.

‘That’s a shame,’ Deanna replied. ‘Tell him I’m sorry I missed him.’

‘You two should have seen the Chief when he heard about the _Enterprise_ ,’ Jadzia chuckled. ‘He poured out an extra glass of whiskey every day for a week.’

‘Engineers always take the loss of a ship the hardest,’ Deanna nodded. ‘I’ve had plenty of gold uniforms in my office shedding a tear over news about one of their old vessels.’

‘Oh, my second host Tobin was inconsolable when he heard the first ship he served on was destroyed!’ Jadzia laughed. ‘I _still_ get misty-eyed thinking about it!’

The sight of the two women laughing easily together should have made Worf relax. But there was still something making him feel tense, something that was compromising his honor if he remained silent about it any longer.

‘Counsellor Troi and I had a relationship,’ he announced suddenly, causing the other two to turn to him in surprise. ‘It was brief,’ he continued, ‘but it _was_ a relationship.’ Letting the truth out made the particular tension he’d been feeling go away, but now he had to deal with the questioning looks from his tablemates. ‘I… did not wish for it to be a secret,’ he explained.

 _‘_ Really _?’_ Jadzia looked at Deanna with new interest for a few seconds before turning back to the Klingon. ‘Worf, the Counsellor doesn’t have a drink,’ she pointed out. ‘Why don’t you go get her one?’

‘I believe the waiter can-’ Worf began.

‘Yes, I’d like to try some Bajoran Spring Wine please, Worf,’ Deanna cut him off with a smile.

Worf glanced between the two women who were both giving him expectant looks, and felt the unpleasant sensation of being completely powerless.

‘Of course,’ he grunted, and stood up from the table.

He glanced back as he approached the bar, and gave a low groan to see the two other officers speaking quietly to each other with conspiratorial smiles. He began to wish he’d let his honor slide, just this once.

The next couple of hours passed more easily. Worf and Deanna discussed news they’d picked up of their fellow crewmates from the _Enterprise_ , as well as a rumour that the first of the new _Sovereign_ class ships would be named in the fallen flagship’s honour. Jadzia told the story of when she’d attended the christening of the _Enterprise B_ as Curzon Dax, an event infamous for the supposed final sacrifice of Captain James T. Kirk. Worf felt his earlier tension seep away as the night went on, even as Jadzia put a hand on his arm while recounting their attempts at winning Quark his own Klingon mate. He noticed Deanna’s pleased smile at the touch, and knew that he couldn’t hide his very un-Klingon bashfulness from the empath. Eventually, Jadzia drained her glass and put it down on the table definitively.

‘I should leave you two to catch up,’ she said. ‘I’m on duty in the morning.’ She stood, and then bent down to kiss Worf on the lips, giving him a smile before also giving one to Deanna. ‘It was lovely to meet you,’ she told her.

‘Likewise,’ Deanna smiled back.

The two remaining at the table watched Jadzia walk away before turning back to each other.

‘She seems wonderful, Worf,’ Deanna said.

‘Jadzia is unlike any woman I have ever known,’ Worf nodded. ‘And you two seem to have gotten on well,' he added, giving a pointed look to the woman sat opposite him.

‘Don’t worry,’ she chuckled. ‘I kept the Counsellor’s code. I didn’t mention Alexander or anything else that’s for you to tell.’

‘Thank you.’ Of course, in Worf’s ideal world Jadzia would already be his son’s new mother. But he had immediately known that the Trill would not be willing to jump straight into marriage as was the Klingon custom, and he could see that his acceptance of this was surprising to someone who knew him as well as Deanna did.

‘I’m glad to see you so happy,’ she said sincerely, before her gaze faltered slightly. ‘I know you and I never got to a level of commitment where you felt we could make our relationship physical, but I think it’s good that you’ve found someone you’re comfortable with.’

Worf felt a pang of guilt. ‘You should not feel that this is a reflection on you in any way,’ he assured her. Despite his reluctance to go into intimate details, he wanted to ensure his friend did not leave the station with her pride bruised. ‘You were always very understanding, whereas Jadzia…’

‘…took charge?’

Now Worf was the one averting his gaze, and Deanna chuckled again.

‘She seems to have gotten you to relax a bit, which I know is hard for you.’

‘Yes,’ Worf admitted, before shifting a little in his seat. ‘We have spoken before about why.’

‘About Mikel?’ Deanna asked quietly, and Worf nodded.

‘I have always feared what could happen if I lost control like that again,’ he continued. ‘But although my relationship with Jadzia is still new, I can already see that her many lifetimes have given her the experience to handle almost anything.’

‘Including you?’ Deanna grinned.

Worf pursed his lips slightly at his friend’s tone, but nodded again. Deanna put an affectionate hand on his arm across the table.

‘I’m really happy for you,’ she said.

The Klingon found himself smiling again, and gently returned the gesture.


End file.
